Hollow People
by Thenymphsaredeparted
Summary: What happens when a spirit burns so brightly, it consumes all those left in its wake? A child bears an incredible burden as she tries to understand her power and how...if...she can manage the darkness within.
1. Prologue: It has come undone

Disclaimer: Tolkein is amazing, and I only wish to be half the writer that he is

Disclaimer: Tolkein is amazing, and I only wish to be half the writer that he is. However, all of these characters, sans a few O/C's which have come up and will come up, are his and his alone. Thank you and I hope that you enjoy!

Prologue: It has come undone

"…_Those who have crossed_

_With direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom_

_Remember us - if at all - not as lost_

_Violent souls, but only_

_As the hollow men_

_The stuffed men."_

Chaos. Fire spread across the sky and land, the flames dancing sensuously as they consumed everything in their wake. She could hear the moaning and screaming of lost souls that were trapped among the flames. Galadriel found herself running. Where to, she did not know. Up and down melted together with time like molten gold. A perverse red haze lay in every direction, and her only understanding of time coincided with the burning of her muscles. Exhaustion began to cloud her brain. 'Must…find…Finrod.' She thought with a tear. Her brother had disappeared among the flames, along with her Celeborn, Elrond, and Gil-Galad. Lost in her thoughts, she did not see the break in the ground before her. With a cry, Galadriel fell violently to the ground. 'This must be the end.' She thought as she struggled to stand. Flames licked at her golden hair and robes, threatening to overtake her. She could feel the burning heat on her face and body, the acrid smoke choking her as she struggled to orient herself. A blinding pain flashed through her, and fear begin to kick in.

'It shouldn't end like this!'

With that, she gathered all of the strength that she possessed. Sitting up, Galadriel attempted to put weight on her ankle, but the mottled bruising was proof of at least a bad sprain. With a choked cry, she leveled her eyes on the devastation before her. A feeling of overwhelming grief hit the she-elf, and a tear slid down her cheek.

"Aman." The Lady of Lorien choked out. 'I never thought that I'd see the day where Valinor burned like the hellfire of Angband.'

Bitterness washed over her in cruel waves. Lifting her eyes to the heavens, Galadriel started to sing a song of woe. Her beautiful soprano rose above the roar of the fire, its silver tones desperately trying to quell her heartache. As the smoke threatened to smother her, her sensitive elven ears picked up something foreign. It sounded like…a voice? Ignoring the smoke and flames, she craned her head, in search of the mysterious voice. It appeared to be approaching.

"Help!" cried Galadriel, her voice hoarse and dry. She could discern a shadowy figure approaching. Straining her eyes, Galadriel could make out the gleam of silver armor, the flashing of a jewel encrusted sword, and the strength with which the figure approached her. Fire lapped at her feet, and Galadriel gasped. Pain coursed through her body. Still, she remained transfixed on the being.

"_Let me be no nearer_

_In death's dream kingdom_

_Let me also wear_

_Such deliberate disguises_

_Rat's coat, crowskin, crossed staves_

_In a field_

_Behaving as the wind behaves_

_No nearer –_

_Not that final meeting_

_In the twilight kingdom."_

Raven hair flowed like rivers of silk amongst the flames, impervious to the desolation. Flashes of alabaster skin, the High King's crest, and glowing black eyes filled her Galadriel's vision. An icy weight began to fill her body as she heard the voice pick up her song. Rich and powerful, the voice seemed to beat back the fire that surrounded her. 'I know that voice…Elbereth!' Her blue eyes flashed with dread realization. 'It can't be…' The figure stood in front of her, shining brilliantly even amongst the flames. His face was beautiful, even among elven standards. His ebony hair whipped about him like a crown of shadow, and the elf smirked. His eyes bore into her, onyx gems set into an impossibly breathtaking visage. Withdrawing his sword, the elf continued her song of woe.

"Through the mists we are departing, fallen corpses on the ground. Our bodies surrender naught control, our souls will still be bound…my Galadriel, this isn't a very welcoming tune." He purred while running his finger along the edge of his razor sharp blade. It glittered obscenely in the light of the fire. The she-elf narrowed her eyes in defiance.

"Kinslayer!" she growled.

The elf chuckled ominously. "My, how quick you are to judge. I thought that the memory of elves was ageless…you seem to have forgotten your own part in this."

Galadriel stiffened. "I had never cleaned the blood of my _kin_ from my weapon. You have no right to lay blame, son of Finwë."

The elf bristled at this; gliding towards her, he crouched down on one knee, and grasped her chin. Onyx clashed with sapphire.

"Do not say his name in my presence." He hissed. Galadriel remained impassive, except for the fear and anger burning in her eyes.

"Then do not shame it." A deadly whisper escaped from her lips.

The elf wrenched away from her as if she had burnt him. With a cry of anguish, he brandished his sword.

"Foolhardy words, _Artanis_!" he cried as he swung his blade overhead. His eyes had taken on a hellish light.

"Fëanor, no!" she cried, attempting to shield herself from his strike, but to no avail. The last thing Galadriel remembered was the burning hatred in his eyes as the blade pierced her heart.

"_The eyes are not here_

_There are no eyes here_

_In this valley of dying stars_

_In this hollow valley_

_This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms_

_In this last of meeting places_

_We grope together_

_And avoid speech_

_Gathered on this beach of the tumid river_

_Sightless, unless_

_The eyes reappear_

_As the perpetual star_

_Multifoliate rose_

_Of death's twilight kingdom_

_The hope only_

_Of empty men."_

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Galadriel awoke with a start, her hand clasped to her chest. She was burning from within, and her skin was damp against the cool night air. Breathing heavily, she pushed off her covers and stepped out of bed. The Lady of Lorien was deeply disturbed. 'What a horrible vision…' she thought as she made her way over to the window. Looking upon her kingdom, the soft lights and beautiful foliage normally calmed her. However, there would be no piece for her tonight. The maddened gaze of Feanor was forever etched into her psyche.

"Melamin…?" Celeborn asked from the bed, sleep creeping into his tired voice. Galadriel turned to face him, worry plaguing her exquisite features.

"It was nothing…just a vision." she murmured.

Celeborn, seeing the distress of his wife, moved quietly over to her. Enfolding her in his arms, he rested his forehead against hers, giving her strength and calming her soul. "It doesn't appear to be nothing." He whispered. Galadriel pulled him closer.

"It matters not, melamin." She murmured.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, causing both elves to stare out of the window. Something was coming; Galadriel could feel it in her bones. 'I must speak to Elrond.' She thought as she gazed upon the clouds forming in the east.

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At that moment, a child came into Middle-Earth with a great yell. Its mother, weakened from the birth, teetered on the edge of doom. The babe was taken away from its mother with the hope that time alone would allow the Lady to rest. However, after a few minutes of screaming for her child, the baby was returned to the sickly mother. It cooed as it nestled to its mother's bosom. The lady sighed, her strength was nearly gone. She felt death beckoning her like the caress of a loved one. 'Let it be.' she thought somberly.

"…_Is it like this_

_In death's other kingdom_

_Waking alone_

_At the hour when we are_

_Trembling with tenderness_

_Lips that would kiss_

_Form prayers to broken stone..."_

"Goodness Calawen, look at her eyes!" Ingmar, the head midwife, exclaimed.

To the surprise of Calawen and the other midwives, the child's eyes were already open. Fringed by a dusting of thick black lashes, they were deep, dark, and lively, glowing with vigor and intelligence.

"She is so beautiful…" whispered Calawen.

Suddenly, her body was wracked with an unbelievable amount of pain. She coughed, drops of blood spraying with every cough. It was time.

"Call her Noriel!" she gasped with wild eyes as Ingmar took her away. Another sharp pain and Calawen screamed, her cries tearing all those who heard it apart. A red haze filled her vision, and she was lost.

Even after Ingmar shut door to Calawen's bedroom, the pained screams of the new mother echoed throughout the hall. Tears poured down Ignmar's wrinkled face as she rocked the distraught baby. The little girl's distress was palpable as she cried.

"Motherless, you poor little thing." Ingmar murmured.

Soon, the cries from Calawen's room ceased, and the baby wailed louder. Her mother had passed, and all was undone. It was the beginning of the end.

_"This is the way the world ends_

_This is the way the world ends_

_This is the way the world ends_

_Not with a bang but a whimper"._

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Wow, first chapter out of the way! What do you think? It's my first fic, so please be kind. I love constructive criticism of any kind, but I do not consider 'flames' to be constructive. More often than not, they are hurtful. If you really hate it that much, then don't read it.

Post scriptum…the poetry excerpts are from T.S. Eliot's "The Hollow Men."


	2. Chapter 1 Elrond's Vision

Elrond was troubled

Elrond was troubled. Pulling on a heavy robe, he stepped out onto his balcony. Despite it being spring, the weather had taken a recent turn for the worse. The overcast skies were echoed in the stormy grey of his sharp eyes. An icy wind ripped through Imladris, the bitter cold spreading through his veins like ice. He unconsciously hugged his arms to his body, an action quite unbefitting of the Lord of Imladris. Despite his strength, the elf couldn't help but feel incredibly disturbed. His dreams of late were plagued by fire and faces that he couldn't place from memory, but was all too familiar with anyway. Screams echoed in his mind, breaking out of his unconscious mind and harassing him in his waking life. Shaking his head, Elrond attempted to clear his mind. The most current visions were incredibly disturbing, and he was having trouble distinguishing between what was imagined and what was to become his reality. Sighing, the elf moved away from his balcony and over to his desk. Pushing away scrolls and other paraphernalia, Elrond took out a quill and parchment. As of late, he had been recording his visions and dreams in an attempt to find common symbols and occurrences. This morning was no different. Running a hand through his thick mane of ebony hair, the elf began to recall the events of his dreamscape.

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_The heat from the fire threatened to burn the elf from the inside out. With great trepidation, Elrond turned to take in his surroundings. Fire fanned out in all directions, covering the entirety of the field that he had found himself in. Cries of pain and despair could be heard over the perverse roar of the fire, tearing at the elf's heart and soul. Tthe fear he was so desperately trying to quell was fighting back with an unimaginable fury. This was an unholy fire. Suddenly, laughter sounded behind him. Whipping his head around, Elrond turned to face the source of the obscene noise, his body poised and ready to attack. His steely gaze crashed with eyes of obsidian. _

"_Well met, son of Earendil." The elf with eyes of flint smirked at Elrond._

"_Who are you?" Elrond demanded._

_The elf openly laughed at his question. "Oh, I think you know who I am. You are quite the loremaster, are you not? If not, perhaps this little 'prophecy' will help you pinpoint my identity:_

_Ye have spilled the blood of your kindred unrighteously and have stained the land of Aman. For blood ye shall render blood, and beyond Aman ye shall dwell in Death's shadow. For though Eru has appointed to you to die not in Eä, and no sickness may assail you, yet slain ye may be, and slain ye will be: by weapon and by torment and by grief; and your houseless spirits shall come then to Mandos. There long shall ye abide and yearn for your bodies, and find little pity though all whom ye have slain should entreat for you." _

_Elrond stared at the elf at the elf with unabashed surprise. "The Prophecy of the North…it can't be…you are dead!" he exclaimed._

_The dark elf snickered at his open shock. "I am certainly not alive. However, you of all creatures should know that the ways of the Valar are mysterious."_

"_What is your purpose, son of__Finwë__? Why are you plaguing my dreams?" Elrond's eyes narrowed in suspicion._

_Fëanor looked upon his distant kin with a look that bordered on that of amusement. _

"_Well, _Elrond_," sarcasm clouding his silky voice, "despite my overwhelming desire to be the cause of your ire, I do have better things to do with myself."_

_Elrond scoffed. The elf was merely a spirit, trapped in the Halls of Waiting until the end of days._

_Fëanor ignored his look, and turned serious. "I am here to warn you. The Maiar Sauron will not be your only worry in the years to come."_

_Elrond cocked an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"_

_Fëanor looked irritated, but continued. "Like I had said before, the ways of the Valar are mysterious and they should not be completely trusted. There is somewhat of an upheaval in the Halls of Mandos."_

_Elrond let the words sink into him. "Upheaval…?"_

"_Yes, upheaval. There is a darkness…'twas imperceptible at first, but now spreads like a blight. The spirits are uneasy, and Mandos has traveled far too often to Taniquetil for my liking. He does not mention it, but I fear that I know what causes this darkness. I have encountered it before. It isn't as strong, but I feel him growing in strength day by day. It seems as if the Doors of Night do not contain Morgoth Bauglir as well as the other Vala had hoped."_

_Elrond stilled, a chill ripping violently through his body despite the roaring fire around him. "Melkor…it can't be."_

_Fëanor looked grim, his brilliant onyx eyes glittering with hatred. "I feel his presence in the Halls. It is like a sickness, spreading and infecting all with its chill. It is he, and he will make his presence known soon."_

"_What can we do to prepare against such a creature! Middle Earth nearly perished the last time he was free!" Elrond spoke with fury._

"_If he cannot be contained in the Void, then he will wreak havoc upon the Earth." Fëanor continued. "However, I have overheard Mandos speaking with his consort. They had mentioned a 'scion of __Finwë' being their instrument against Morgoth. I do not know what this means, but I am sure that it does not bode well for my line." The elf grimaced at the thought._

_Elrond shook his head, his dark locks shimmering like ripples of water at midnight. He looked to the ancient elf before him. "Galadriel…has she been accosted by visions of you as well?"_

_A ghost of a smile appeared on __Fëanor's lips. "Yes…but her visions are of a more…'violent' nature."_

"_What do you mean?" Elrond slowly rose to his full height. The Noldo before him merely smirked_

"_Irmo has decided to use images of me to give you both hints as to this 'blessed scion'." He spat. "Apparently I am a fountain of information for you, and a harbinger of doom for her." Glancing at the fire around him, Fëanor sighed. "He does overdo it with the fire though." Smirking, he turned away._

_Elrond started after him, only to be held back by a torrent of flame and smoke. "Where are you going?" he tried calling above the din of the fire. Fëanor stopped and turned, his eyes boring into Elrond's steely orbs._

"_Keep your eyes and ears open, Peredhel. You may miss her if you don't." With that, he was consumed by the flames. With his disappearance, a blinding pain filled Elrond's head, signaling the end of the dream. Blackness enveloped his vision, and the fire was no more._

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'I need a cup of incredibly strong tea.' Weariness pulled at his limbs, begging him to return to his bed. Despite the unnaturally lethargic feeling of his body, Elrond's mind was as alert and sharp as always. Copying the content of his vision onto paper, he folded it over and sealed it shut, his wax seal closing the message within. Calling for a messenger, Elrond handed him the letter with the express instructions to deliver it to the Lady of the Golden Wood with all haste. The messenger nodded and left to do his bidding. Elrond sighed, and moved back over to his window. Taking in the sight of the busy elves living their lives against the beautiful background of Imladris, he prayed to the Valar that the beauty before him would remain unspoiled.


End file.
